Success to mine host of the jolly inn of
Nantua!
Then we thunderbolted along again, shot through a grim fortress,
crossed a boundary line, and were in Switzerland. Vive Switzerland!
land of Alps, glaciers, and freemen!
As evening drew on, a wind sprang up, and a storm seemed gathering on
the Jura. The rain dashed against the panes of the berime, as we rode
past the grim-faced monarch of the "misty shroud." A cold wind went
sweeping by, and the Rhone was rushing far below, discernible only in
the distance as a rivulet of flashing foam. It was night as we drove
into Geneva, and stopped at the Messagerie. I heard with joy a voice
demanding if this were Monsieur Besshare. I replied, not without some
scruples of conscience, "_Oui, monsieur, c'est moi,_" though the
name did not sound exactly like the one to which I had been wont to
respond. In half an hour we were at home, in the mansion of Monsieur
Fazy.
Geneve, Monday, June 27. The day dawned clear over this palace of
enchantment. The mountains, the lake, the entire landscape on every
side revealed itself from our lofty windows with transparent
brilliancy.
Pages:
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273